All The Kings Pawns
by AbraFilo
Summary: The untold story of what Saruman and Grima were doing in Orthanc after the battle at Helms Deep was Lost. They will have to learn to get along with one another, or die trying.
1. Foolish Mistakes

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord Of The Rings or any of it's characters or places, the events that take place are purely fictional and are not to be confused with the actual Lord Of The Rings timeline.

From a high balcony Grima watched as the massive army turned to leave, he caught himself licking his lips and stopped before he reached the part that was split open. It was a nervous habit he had aquired within the last four years but his eyes hadn't left the army, they moved with more efficiency than he could have ever believed from an army of Orcs and other nastier creatures. Despite the impressive machinery and the fact that he alone had made this strategic move possible the army was only half of what was on Grima's mind. Somewhere deep down he was feeling a very potent and unsettling guilt but it would have to wait until the situation was better figured out. Saruman had hardley spoken to him since his arrival, that wasn't good. He was used to the wizard ignoring him but that was in less important situations like when he just arrived for a few hours here and there to brew up a new potion that he may have use of. Those few times Saruman generally only asked what he was doing and after Grima had answered he'd just make a demeaning comment about lack of ability and slothfulness then leave him be, but this was different. Now everything he had been working for was drawing to an end and he didn't know of anything he could do now that he was discovered to be Sarumans and the thought of uselessness was almost enough to make his chest tighten and stop him from breathing like many times before. Grima could smell ash, fire and brimstone as the white cloak flashed beside his face for an instant then the wizard strode inside. Being brought back to the present and out of his scattered thoughts he turned on his heel and followed. Grima thought at some point he had heard Saruman say "Leave **None** alive" among other things he would think of later but now he needed to ask about that one part. They were quiet as they walked through the dark stone halls and down the only flight of stairs, he was still shivering. All Grima could hear now was a pounding sound from the marching outside that wasn't yet growing any more distant and his heartbeat, which had not yet slowed from the night before.

"Your candle is no longer lit, you may lower your hand" Saruman said over his shoulder with a tone of undisguised anger and disgust. He had always spoken down to him but at least he was speaking to him.

"My Lord" Grima began, to his suprise the voice he heard was shakier than his own and sounded so pathetic it suprised and scared him, what wouldn't suprise him was if this turned out to be permanent. Going silent after realising he hadn't thought of a proper way to phrase his question, Grima closed his eyes in quick, disordered thought. He couldn't seem to think straight after the events of last night either. Awareness of licking his lips again didn't happen until he felt the sting, it seemed like a warning and knowing Saruman would grow impatient shortly Grima tried to prompt him to say something instead.

"I was curious about the agreement we have concerning Eowyn". He was better at speaking when he had something to work off anyway.

"What of it?"

Not the response he was expecting but Grima couldn't change it so he worked with what little he was givin as they continued climbing the spiralling staircase.

"What I mean is that you assured me that she wouldn't be hurt" Grima said looking up from the candle that he couldn't seem to find a ledge for and watched Sarumans back as they passed another floor.

"I believe that what I said Worm, was that if your performance and infromation proved **useful** she wouldn't be **unessecarily** harmed" Saruman answered impatiently. Grima also couldn't help noticing that certain name used again, it was a bad sign because usually Saruman didn't call him by any name or title. Surely the almost half a decade of work had to amount to something, Grima wanted to believe that the other wizard was lying but that hope was dimishing by the minute. It would be foolish to speak again but Grima was willing to push his luck if there was a chance it could benefit Eowyn.

"The only reason that I ever agreed to help was that you promised she would not be hurt if I did". Grima whispered, it was the best he could come up with in his condition and wasn't sure if he wished for Saruman to hear or not.

"There was more reason than that, don't lie Worm, you may not want to see it within yourself but you are pathetic, afraid and cowardly. Don't use that woman as an excuse for the disgusting weaknesses within yourself". His words were cold like knives stabbing deep into his chest and Grima felt a sort of despair and hopelessnes and mostly regretted opening his mouth. Compared to some horrifying life experiences he should have been able to shake this off but Sarumans voice always had a brutal precision to it. Worst was that people would always succumb to it's suggestions and demands, Grima especially couldn't resist because by this point in life everything appeared threatning and he was afraid. What frightened him could easily be debated but if he were to admit the truth he would say a bit of everything. The spiralling staircase came to an end on the ground floor and Saruman walked into a large open room with an arch concept ceiling. The throne room was what Grima had always called it. There were only three things of great importence in this room, not including Saruman. The palantir, the stand on which it remained and Sarumans throne, the room was also filled with disturbing orbs of light that looked as though someone threw a heap of mud at them and as a result the mud was trapped around the light and doomed to float with it until it someday sparked out. The whole atmosphere of the black stone room was suffocating and made one think of being trapped, or maybe it only seemed that way to Grima. As Saruman was about to place his hands on or near the palantir, whatever he did Grima didn't know, he moved. Running back up an entire level so that the ground floor was out of his sight, Grima sighed in relief, he had once again avoided witnessing it being activated. Once he had wondered about it and dared to touch it, he paid in more than one way for that. Now not even his curious nature could bring him to even glance at it.

Sitting on the darkened staircase Grima's eyes caught sight of his hand, his knuckles were white with strain and trembling terribly around the candles stand. He willed himslef to stop but it wouldn't happen and it took a suprisingly great effort to pull his fingers from the now warm metal. Once the candle was free from his fingers he could make out blood trailing from his palm and fingers. Quickly finding out that it hurt to flex them Grima decided to just make a fist and leave it until an oporutne moment came to clean and wrap his fingers. Leaning against the freezing wall Grima decided he could take this short time to close his eyes and calm down before Saruman returned from that cursed communication device to collect him. Immediatley after closing his eyes Grima felt his chest tighten and his breathing halted. Iron fingers crushed his shoulder but he couldn't cry out, it was as it was before and only a whimper escaped.

A sharp and sudden pain flashed in the back of his head and the staircase came into veiw as he was tilting forward. Grima just barely caught himself from falling on his face and instead landed on his hands and knees. Before he could rise Saruman walked ahead of him. That explained the events of the nightmare, Saruman must have struck him after an attempt at shaking him awake had failed. How long would he suffer from this dreaming condition he wondered for a moment before his pondering was cut short by stern commands.

"Rise Worm, you have much to do to atone for your failure in Rohan".

Saruman walked ahead but paused when Grima pulled himself up to his knees and was gripping his left wrist. It hurt to move it even a little, a perfect end to a perfect day, his right palm and fingers were sliced and his left wrist twisted. Grima had just thought this over when he looked up at the sound of Saruman's chuckling. The staircase was dark but not dark enough to conceal the wizards grin.

"You miss her so much already? it's depressing really, that you think so much of her and not at all of what you could have achieved if you placed your concentration in the more useful areas. Instead of being punished you could have achieved a reward". Saruman's tone had started out mocking, went to genuinly sympathetic, then cold and cruel.

Grima was wondering what had brought about this statement when he tasted the salt in his mouth and felt another sting on his split lip. Raising his right hand to brush under his eye he realised there were tears, he watched as Saruman continued down the stairs with a snort of dissaproval. Grima was sure by this point that Saruman was a complete narcissist and thought that the love of anything other than ones self to be foolsih. Sadly sometimes Grima agreed with him, even if only in his weakest moments or after another look of contempt from Eowyn. It was suprising however that Saruman had mistook them for tears of despair and not nightmare enduced, the evidence was clear as day. That was fine, as long as he wasn't suspicious then Grima wouldn't have to tell him how he had betrayed him just last night on the plains of Rohan. It wasn't a fatal betrayal but Saruman would still likely be enraged to discover all the aparently insignificant secrets he had told last night and enraged tenfold if he had discovered to whom he had told. All those little and almost unimportant secrets could have helped Saruman a great deal but instead just proved to be another ace up his sleeve that Grima had used at an inconveniant time for his own sake.

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**Authors Note:** Okay, so my first Lord Of The Rings Fanfic (seems that i'm doing a lot of firsts lately) this one however should be different in the case that i'm going to try to add chapters onto it *holds for gasps* yes it's at least worth a shot and surely such an underrated character as Grima deserves some attention. Oh by the way, I am completely slugging my way through the books (only on page 200!) so if I screw up anything feel free to point it out, I'm running on character bios, fansites and "Unfinished Tales". All in all thankyou very much for reading, I hope it was time well wasted and I hope this gets better.

Sincerely, Adam


	2. More To Regret

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord Of The Rings, any of its characters or locations. The events that take place are purely fictional and are not to be confused with the actual The Lord Of The Rings timeline.

"You have completed the task I set for you?" Saruman asked from the doorway. If it had been anyone else Grima would have jumped, maybe even screamed but this was to be expected from Saruman. Wizards could hoover, this was the conclusion that Grima had come to after straining his ears and never once hearing him coming even after all these years.

"Yes my lord" Grima answered without looking up. The task was simple, rearange all the books in the tower in order by their title as opposed to author. The task was simple, it was not easy.

"It took you longer than expected, much longer". At this Grima had looked up, the stare he was recieving told him that it was his turn to say something but from experience he knew there was no right answer.

"I apologise my lord" he answered quietly, licking his lips as Sarumans eyes burned into his own.

"Follow" Saruman said simply as he quickly turned and walked out before Grima had even taken his fingers off the bookshelf.

Rising suddenly and attempting to sprint after Saruman, Grima found himself tripping over his own feet. He at least had enough reflex and sense to land on his right shoulder then climb back to his feet to find his cruel master. Reaching the door to the staircase Grima leant over the side and looked up. Usually he was lead up for two reasons, one being that the bottom floors were mostly the less important books or copies of the more original text on the upper levels and a throne room. The other reason was that all the more important and dangerous items were further up, for safety and security reasons. Needless to say Grima either served as a pack mule to carry up fifty pounds of books with a quill and ink precariously balanced on top, Valars help him if it fell. Or as the 'I don't want to catch my long drapping sleeves on fire from the three dozen burning candles in the room so you can get that ingredient' guy. It would all be quite comical if it was someone other than him. Grima let out a sigh of relief when he didn't hear him or see him ascending the steps. What wasn't so relieving was when he felt his leg being yanked. Managing to keep his footing his head snapped to the right to find Saruman glaring up at him right before having both his feet pulled out from under him.

Left shoulder being the first thing to hit the stairs after twirlling around twice in mid air there was nothing stopping him from rolling all the way to the bottom. Grima found this was far more painful than the steps of Meduseld. These stairs had a clean cut edge to them and were not worn by time and feet. There was a deep cut on his arm where he had first landed then after his head was jerked forward and the lower half crashed against the black unyeilding stone Grima had a large gash across the front of his gums that was spewing blood. Three feet from the bottom he felt himself roll off the stairs and tried in vain to grab the edge and at least land on his feet, the stairs were too smooth. Grima was more aware of his stiff joints and sore limbs for the few moments before he landed on his back with a hollow thud. After that he merely looked at the ceiling and was very aware of a dull throbbing pain all down his back. The only thing he really had to be grateful for was that he wasn't higher up and that this time he wasn't thrown, well in a sense he supposed that he'd been tripped.

Saruman stood over him, it was hard to tell with the beard but he looked quite angry from this angle. Though Grima assumed the spinning vision could have something to do with his perspective and it would stay that way for a few more hours at least.

"When I instruct you to follow me I mean immediatly, not on your own time" the wizard hissed down at him.

"My sincerest apologies" Grima answered in a dazed voice that didn't sound sincere at all. For a moment, he was sure that Saruman intended to kick him but instead after some hesitation he seemed content to nudge him painfully onto his stomach with the end of his staff. Whatever the staff was made of it bit deep into his side and Grima could feel the warm blood trickling under his robes as he lifted himself unsteadily to his feet. He more or less stumbled behind Saruman to the throne room, falling to one knee every so often. Half the stumbling could be credited to his attempts at getting the handkerchief from his sleeve with the twisted hand that was now almost singing in pain. Grima winced at every movement of his joints no matter how smooth and suttle until finally his wrapped hand could grip it. The handkerchief firmly in his grasp Grima wiped it across his lips and lower jaw, chin already dripping blood. As much as it hurt to see something so important to him in such condition Grima knew Saruman would be less than thrilled to have blood droplets all along the floor. On the brightside it would all be the the very same shade of red when it dried, so maybe in time he could fool himself into thinking it was always like this.

Saruman opened one of the three doorways leading into the throne room, the one on the right, and strode in. Never once did he look back. There was little point in looking back for him Grima thought, he was always behind Saruman where could he possibly run to now? Even if he had no desire to be near that poison orb he had no choice so he just averted his gaze to the floor. Still hearing Saruman walking up to the throne Grima made sure that before he so much as turned he had dropped to his knees beside the stand in a kneeling position, ever careful to not let even his cloak touch it. Perhaps the obediant posture would count for something and it gave his aching limbs a break anyway. Not seeing or hearing when Saruman had taken his seat Grima quickly tucked the handkerchief within his left sleeve. This was done in plain sight because Saruman greatly disliked him, especially, moving anything about where he couldn't see.

"So what am I to do with a man in a new world that has no need of them" Saruman asked after what seemed like an eternity of his coal eyes studying him.

"Whatever you please, my lord" Grima answered trembling, eyes refusing to leave the floor. This day had been dreamt and he had awoken with cold sweats and tears staining his face.

"Whatever I please" he laughed "A rather useless promise seeing as you have always done 'whatever I please' and failed, no I think I should be rid of something that no longer has a use"

"Mercy my lord, surely a servant so loyal would always have even a small use and in a world with no other men what a great weapon to have for no one would suspect it" Grima cried more coherently than he had expected.

Saruman had stepped down from his throne. Upon hearing that Grima brought his knees to his chest. This could be the end. The footsteps stopped beside him, he could hear his heartbeat and feel his hot breath rise from the mist he was exhaling on the cold, stone floor. Tears fell from his tightly closed eyes and he imagined Eowyn, Eowyn who he would never see again, Eowyn who would never have him. If this was the last few moments of his life then he could surely be permitted to imagine being near her at least in his own mind. Just as he was remembering a long ago memory where she had actually smiled at one of his remarks Saruman spoke and his eyes shot open.

"Perhaps this could be considered" Saruman said and again Grima heard footsteps leaving the room."Try to resist the urge to place your hands upon the Palantir, I will not be as forgiving as last time"

Grima pulled himself to his knees then sat and pushed himself from the room backwards. He wasn't sure if he'd hear the voice again just by looking into it but that wasn't something he really wanted to test, ever. Closing the door behind him a thought came to his mind. Little time was left and Grima was almost sure that Saruman would decide against keeping him, but he still had a horse. Maybe if he worked things out right he could escape. Being dressed in black and riding a black horse he would be almost invisible against the nightsky. It was the first time in maybe a year that the smile came to his lips without an effort.


	3. Slipping Away

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord Of The Rings or any of it's characters or places, the events that take place are purely fictional and are not to be confused with the actual Lord Of The Rings timeline.

Escaping wasn't going to be as easy as Grima had initially thought. Never had he assumed he would just parade out the front doors, leap onto his horse, ride into darkness towards Eowyn and a happily ever after. Grima was never that hopeful but this was ridiculous. Apparently the aged wizard had nothing better to do than order him around all day now that the ugly orcs and foolish Dunlending men were gone. The stress and annoyance of it had him constantly licking his lip open for fresh blood to drip down his chin. Licking the blood away kept him awake and attentive to do uneeded work so it could have it's positive effects if Grima felt up to the task of looking at it that way. As a time for sleep never happened at all for either of them the night before, Grima could have easily slumped in a corner and fell asleep on the cold rock floor but instead he spent his day and night hearing the wizard complain about the slow pace in which he was working. Knowing that the miserable old creature could tell he was lacerated and bruised in various places and just didn't care Grima decided to continue his work in silence and try to concentrate on seeing Eowyn again as Saruman continued to belittle him for the few hours before dusk. It wasn't pleasent spending more than an entire day and night like that but there really was no other option, except maybe a quick painless death if he managed a really cutting insult. then again being dead wasn't in Grima's best interest no matter how relatively painless, but, he reminded himself, he would never be that lucky.

In time Saruman grew bored or tired and left the room. Nothing had been said as to wether or not keeping him around was going to happen and Grima wasn't keen to bring it up. Holding his breath and stopping his tongue reaching his lip for the first time that day he listened for the wizards feet upon the staircase so there would be no mistake as to how far he ascended. After walking these stairs himself numerous times he estimated that Saruman had left to his sleeping chambers. Turning towards the door he saw it once again and had to shove a fist in his mouth to stifle the scream. How could it be here? it wasn't possible but he saw it clearly, The black cloaked figure was marching towards him. Grima could hear the heavy steel armour hit the floor and creak with every slight movement made. He was unfortunate enough to know that there was nothing visible inside and thanked the Valars endlessly that his mortal eyes could see no more. Though the sound of the weight was enough to water his eyes from the feeling that whatever else was in thier was strong enough to rip him in two without breaking it's stride. Again Grima felt as though he couldn't breath and his ribs themselves were constricting on his his lungs and were about to pierce through him. Crawling into the corner wasn't an easy task but taking the time to stand and try to run past it was out of the question and probably the worst thing to do right now. With nothing left to expose it would surly end him, and Saruman would have nothing to wake to but a blood stain on the wall.

The time spent huddled in that corner quietly dripping tears from tightly closed eyes would never be known. It may have been mere minutes or even the hours it felt like but after he realised the sounds and chills had left and dared to open an eye Grima was realived to find it was all gone. Likely it was never there to begin with. It was no comfort to acknowledge that this condition wasn't ebbing away and anguishing to fear it may get worse. Luckily time wasn't in his favor so none of it was spent lingering on this sad notion as Grima pulled himself up. Wiping tears from his face he shakily moved to the doorway and checked each direction of the staircase while steadying his breath. Moveing silently down the staircase proved somewhat difficult while shivering and holding his breath but he managed. Stealth happened to be a feat Grima was quite accomplished in, he had to be for the sake of his own survival or Eowyn's cousin and brother would have put an abrupt and violent end to his existence long ago. Getting through the door was likely going to prove a little more difficult, Grima had a strong feeling the orcs may give in to violent habits if the aged wizard wasn't near. Unfortunatley the time to act was now, the opportunity would not present itself again and worse yet the chills were creeping up again and the shadows seemed to close in. With a deep breath Grima resolved to go through with it now and placed his right lacerated hand on the cold door and relished the cool sting on both fingers and palm before he pushed it open enough to slide out.

It was as though a fire had suddenly caught beneath his chin as a hot wave suddenly swept over him and stole his breath. The tears on his face felt foreign as the rest of his face flushed, even in the nearest shadow it was unpleasent. Rubbing his eyes seemed to help but Grima knew it would take some time to adjust to the heat and unatural red light from the fires below. The orcs had paused to see who had opened the door and seeing it was only him most had went back to work. This realisation was more pleasent than expected and the stable was less that a minute away if he walked quickly. Grima would get there before the next vision had a chance to severly disturb his senses. Walking at a quick pace he managed to stop the smirk he felt struggling to form at the thought of this good fortune but not his tongue splitting his lip again. At reaching the stable door Grima was more aware of the stinging as his hand slipped off the doorknob again and again from sweat and panic. Sure that the orcs could hear his heartbeat he didn't dare glance over his shoulder and instead clasped both hands tightly around the doorknob, twisted, felt blood and pain, stepped in and shut the door behind him.

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Authors Note: This chapter is dedicated to Alice The Strange, who wanted this story to continue and gave this chapter a reason to exist. It really wouldn't be here without her.


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